


Beyond the Darkest Dark

by jazzyproz



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzyproz/pseuds/jazzyproz
Summary: Opening her eyes to the darkest dark she'd ever experienced, Phryne didn't know where she was and couldn't remember how she got there...  Swallowing her panic, she stretched her arms out, searching for something, anything, that would help decipher the mystery of her predicament.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 82
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Hello and Welcome! I hope this finds everyone well, and that your loved ones are healthy in the midst of the seemingly-endless-pandemic! I’ve been working a lot of extra hours since the onset of the virus, but I do try to find some free time here and there to jot down an idea or two. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Of course, I don’t own anything related to MFMM, I’m just taking the characters that we know and love and tossing them into a story of my own imaginings. I hope you enjoy it!

She was surrounded by  _ darkness _ . 

It was the inkiest, darkest  _ dark _ she’d ever experienced. An involuntary shutter raked through her body, head to toe, as she struggled to sit upright. 

“H-Hello?” The tremor in her whispered voice would have betrayed her if anyone was listening, making it obvious that the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher  _ was _ , in fact, susceptible to fear. 

Silence answered, causing her heart to pound faster. The chill of her surroundings seeped into her body, filling her with a sense of dread. 

“Jack?” Her throat was painfully dry. A flood of overwhelming emotions threatened to seize control of her logic, prompting her to speak louder. “Are you here,  _ Jack…? _ ” She wasn’t certain why she woke up compelled to call for him, but something inside told her that he was the last person she’d seen… 

The Lady Detective couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. The space around her was so thick with an abyss of blackness that she momentarily questioned her state of consciousness, quickly dispelling the notion that she was trapped in a nightmare. She sensed, however, that she wasn’t alone and forced herself to swallow a new rush of panic at the unknown. Stretching her arms out, her hands dragged along the dirt floor upon which she had been laying, she couldn’t feel anything in any direction. No walls, no furniture, nothing but dirt and pebbles as her fingers swept to and fro. 

Her body was stiff; most likely she’d been lying in one position for too long after being left there… wherever  _ there _ was. Her thoughts were foggy, disconnected, and she struggled to recall what she’d been doing just prior to her only other memory of waking up moments ago. The only thing she  _ thought _ she was certain of was that she’d been with Senior Detective Jack Robinson. 

Closing her eyes to stave off a sudden onset of nausea, she braced herself upright by locking her elbows and leaning back, focusing on her breathing. 

_ Breathe.... _

_ In _ , two-three-four… 

_ Out _ , two-three-four…. 

_ In _ , two-three-four… 

_ Out _ , two-three-four… 

_ Repeat _ ... 

When the threat of regurgitation finally subsided, she opened her eyes again. It was still dark, disorienting, and frankly, terrifying. She never did like dark spaces, not since she was a child and her father had taken a fancy to locking her in a cupboard during his drunken stupors in failed attempts to break her spirit. As Phryne had matured, she learned to hide her insecurities from most of the world, preferring, instead, to give off an air of carefree and blissful confidence. The young-girl inside, however, made the occasional appearance when adult-Phryne faced horrors such as abusive men, confined spaces or unnavigable labyrinths… and spiders… 

The mere thought of spiders triggered an intense reaction, and she instantly withdrew her hands from the floor, tucking them tight against her body as she tried to control her breathing again, squeezing her eyes closed.

_ Breathe.... _

_ In _ , two-three-four… 

_ Out _ , two-three-four…. 

_ In _ , two-three-four… 

_ Out _ , two-three-four… 

_ Repeat _ ... 

Regaining control, she dared to look around, but was, again, met with darkness. Feeling more grounded, her thoughts instantly returned to Jack. Few and far between were the individuals in whom Phryne had enough trust to let her true self peek through. Most recently, and perhaps most  _ importantly _ , she’d been allowing herself to open up to her unconventional partner. She was convinced that he was the best man she'd ever known. 

Over the past several months, they’d been growing closer, often taking dinner together or sharing a nightcap over a draughts board and easy conversation, even in the absence of shared cases or investigations. His quiet countenance, sometimes misinterpreted by people who didn’t know him as shyness or insecurity, had steadily pulled her into his steadfast orbit, as he demonstrated his loyalty to her, even in times when she knew herself to be a nuisance. The mere fact that, time and again, he allowed her to bulldoze her way onto his crime scenes spoke volumes. Granted, his acquiescence was often accompanied by the obligatory grumbling and snarkiness due his station, ( _ after all he did have a certain appearance to uphold _ ), but that only proved to her that she had gained his trust. Perhaps not only his trust in her sleuthing abilities and intuitive deductions, but in her as a  _ person, _ as an  _ equal _ . 

_ Well _ , she thought,  _ the one and only Jack Robinson might have trust in me, but a fat lot of good that’ll do for me in this particular conundrum _ . 

Feeling uncharacteristic,  _ and unwelcome _ , tears slip free from her lower lids, she brushed them away angrily. As her normally-quick mind struggled to remember  _ anything _ that would shed light, metaphorical or otherwise, on her current predicament, she sobbed a single, sorrowful syllable into the silent void. 

“ _ Jack… _ ”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Hello and welcome back!   
> Just wanted to say that all errors are my own, I don’t have a beta, so I try to edit myself. My apologies if you spot some inconsistencies or grammatical errors! I’m a full-time essential worker, so I’ve been working additional hours these past several months amid the pandemic, but I’ve been trying to write to ease my anxiety.

From somewhere beyond the fuzziness of slumber, from a place just outside the reach of his immediate state of awareness, he could hear his name being called. If he’d been a boy, he might’ve thought it was his mother calling to him from across the fields to come in for supper. Or, if he was a young man, it may have been Rosie, reprimanding him while rolling her eyes in frustration when his shoes carried mud from his garden through the kitchen,  _ again,  _ as he trekked down the hallway towards their bedroom... __

A disembodied voice reached out to him, beckoning his attention through the distance, but how great a distance he had no idea. His focus wavered as his body tried to force itself out of slumber, towards the land of the living… towards the world in which he was a successful police detective with a notable solve rate that had captured the attention of Victoria’s constabulary leadership. 

_ His solve rate _ … His solve rate had increased more than eighteen percent since forming an unlikely partnership with Melbourne’s very own,  _ though somewhat unconventional,  _ Lady Detective. While both his Commissioner and Deputy Commissioner had initially frowned upon the civilian’s involvement in police work, Jack went with his gut instinct and the decision had paid off in spades. 

A Lady Detective could go places he could not; she could probe suspects or witnesses in ways that would see Jack booted from the force if he tried. His Lady Detective,  _ yes, he realized he was mentally referring to Phryne as ‘His’ Lady Detective _ , was as intelligent and insightful as she was beautiful and kind. 

Some people, those who didn’t know her the way Jack had gotten to know her, might think her to be selfish or shallow. Jack Robinson, Senior Detective Inspector, knew the truth. The Honorable Phryne Fisher was giving, caring, and  _ wildly  _ misunderstood and underestimated. With an instant regret, he realized he had never told her just how much he’d grown to appreciate working alongside her. 

Squeezing his eyes shut tighter, steeling himself to fight the bright light of day, he peeled one eyelid open slowly, followed almost immediately by the second. It wasn’t, as he expected, bright as day. In fact, it was dark -  _ so very dark  _ that he wasn’t certain he’d opened his eyes at all. 

With a rush of realization, he pushed himself into a sitting position, swaying slightly as if recovering from a night of dangerously heavy drinking. He wasn’t in the habit, however, of imbibing so much as to cause a blackout, at least not since the night that his former wife left their home for good. 

Holding his forehead tenderly, he breathed slowly allowing a swell of nausea to pass, and as he did, he thought he heard a noise coming from somewhere behind him. He forced himself to remain silent as he turned his head, trying to focus on the rustling sound, halting his own movements so as to not drown out the unidentified source. 

The quiet of the space was broken again by something that sounded like a sob. Before his brain even registered what he was hearing, instinct took control of his body. He pushed up to his knees, struggling to get his bearings in the nothingness that surrounded him. Gripping the side of his abdomen to ease a sudden stab of pain, he took a steady breath and promised to self-assess the injury later, once he knew they were safe. 

“Jack…” she whispered woefully, not expecting an answer and thoroughly disgusted with herself  _ and  _ her apparent inability to react and deal with the situation on her own. She had never needed a man. She hadn’t needed  _ anyone  _ since 1918... And yet, she sat in the dirt of an unknown location, confused as to how she got there and unable to make any sense of why she felt so terribly disoriented, calling for the one person on whom she knew she’d always be able to depend. After mentally cataloguing her body, she was confident she suffered no injuries, aside from what she suspected were abrasions across her palms and her previously noted sore back. She was unable to mentally process her predicament, though, incapable of formulating a plan of escape, or at the very least, a plan of exploration to learn her surroundings. 

And then she heard a noise, something rustling in the near distance and it was growing louder as it drew closer. 

“Miss Fisher?” Jack’s voice crackled with disuse as he moved in the direction of the sound, his other senses seemed to become heightened at the loss of his sight. “Phryne?” 

“Jack!” She exhaled in relief, rocking forward and crawling along the dirt floor, uncaring about the undignified manner in which she was moving. “Jack, I’m here!” 

He could smell her perfume and his heart swelled knowing she was alright, or at the very least she was  _ there _ . Even in the darkness, they gravitated towards each other without error, their hands joining on the dirt floor as if they were magnetized. 

“Miss Fisher,” he carefully pulled her closer. “Are you alright?” 

Throwing herself against his chest, she hummed the moment his arms wrapped around her shoulders and she buried her face against his neck. “Jack,” she breathed softly, as if she was afraid of speaking too loudly and waking herself up from the strange dream that her mind had conjured. “You’re here…” 

“I’m here, Love,” the moniker slipped out without permission, though neither seemed particularly troubled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postscript A/N Thanks for taking the time to stop by and read my story! I really appreciate you all! I’d love to hear what you think! 
> 
> peace & love, my friends  
> ~jazzy


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Welcome back! I hope this chapter finds you well! Thanks for coming back to read! 
> 
> I have a confession - I started this fic MONTHS ago… As I previously said, I’ve been writing sporadically, between overtime hours at work and basic down-time when I didn’t want to concentrate on anything at all. However, I was close to finishing it about a month or so ago. But then… we adopted a puppy… She is a black lab mix and is now about twelve weeks old. So, the little bit of free time that I had suddenly diminished, but I can’t regret the decision. We’ve been without a dog for nearly 5 years and we really missed having a canine companion. We hope to train her well enough to take her camping with us. So yeah… that has happened in the JazzyHome! Now I am just finding the time to edit my writing before posting, but if I miss anything glaringly awful, please let me know!

“Are you hurt, Phryne?” He palmed the back of her neck, cradling her close so she wouldn’t pull away. He ignored his own pain when she pressed in against his side, hoping that she hadn’t been injured as he’d been. 

She shook her head as her fingers clutched to his sides, having slipped beneath his suit jacket. “I don’t think so… but something is wrong, Jack. I don’t remember anything.”

Nodding in understanding, he absently dropped a kiss to her silky hair, still soft and fragrant even after who-knows-how-long of being in their current state of hell. “I suspect we were drugged, Miss Fisher, which would explain your inability to recall,” he explained softly, coaxing her down so they could sit rather than kneeling as they held onto one another. “If I were a betting man, I’d wager a month’s salary on the barkeep…”

_ The barkeep _ , she thought.  _ What barkeep _ ? Phryne couldn’t concentrate on anything, it was like someone had taken an eraser to her brain and removed any and all traces of her day. The last thing she could remember was telling Dot she was meeting the Inspector at the station. That was mid-day, as she had packed him a meal. She wasn’t even sure what day she was remembering and didn’t know if they’d been in their dark prison long enough for the world outside to begin a new dawn… 

Shaking her head, she pulled back and looked up to where she knew Jack’s eyes should be and found herself wishing for enough light to see his reassuring blues. “That doesn’t help, I still can’t remember, Jack.” 

Blindly, he moved his hand to cradle her cheek, surprised to find it moist, and he thumbed away the tears he couldn’t see. “We were undercover, Phryne. In the dance club on Peterson Street.” He fell back onto his heels, absently reaching out to their sides, in an effort to locate a wall or other structure to lean against. Sensing a slight rise in the floor, he continued his groping as Phryne muttered under her breath, trying to recall the case they were working. Pushing up to his knees, he started crawling as he continued talking. 

“We were there to observe, but I suspect our identities were made while we sat at the bar… or at least our actions of sipping beverages and studiously avoiding socializing with other patrons were suspicious enough that Big Tommy wanted us removed from the premises…” Finding a wall, he sighed, wanting to lean back. His body felt as though he had taken a beating, though he couldn’t recall it happening. He knew he needed to get his bearings before continuing to explore their dungeon. 

“Where are you going?” She asked, feeling him pull further away. 

“There’s a wall over here, I just need to lean back against it for a few moments. We’ll need to explore the room as best as we can to figure out where the devil we are… But first I need to sit, my head is still spinning a bit.” He clutched one hand to his side, pressing down on the pain he felt, but willing himself to overcome the discomfort while not alarming Miss Fisher. 

“Mine, too…” She started crawling after him, following his voice through the inky darkness. “Where are we, do you think?” She felt his outstretched foot and boldly felt her way up his leg so she could sit beside him. He grabbed her hand before she could get much higher than his knee, silently guiding her into place. 

“I don’t know,” he stated quietly. “ _ I am, _ however, still of the belief that Big Tommy is behind this…” When she settled at his side, close enough that their upper arms pressed together. 

“I remember the  _ case _ ,” she said absently. “Why can’t I remember our undercover activities?” She wrinkled her brow into the blackness. “You don’t seem to have an issue remembering…” 

He reached for her hand, taking the liberty of holding it in his. “They may have used less poison on me, or failed to calculate for my larger size, giving me the same dosage as they gave you.” 

“I do not like this feeling of missing time…”

“You’ll get your memory back, Phryne,” he spoke softly. 

“You sound awfully confident for not being a doctor,” she argued, letting her head fall sideways so it would rest on his shoulder. 

He chuckled. “Well, I have some experience with drugs causing temporary amnesia.” He didn’t go into details and was thankful when she didn’t push for additional information, though he wouldn’t be surprised if the question came up at a later date... They sat for several moments in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. 

“Do you think they plan to come back and kill us?” Phryne Fisher was not one to fear the unknown, but having lost the previous several hours at least, she was unsettled. 

“I suspect if they wanted us dead, we wouldn’t be sitting here talking, Miss Fisher,” he tried to assure her, tipping his head towards her. “It’s more likely they wanted us out of the way so they could wrap up whatever scheme they were planning. Hopefully Collins and Mills haven’t let the trail grow too cold.” He felt her shiver. “Speaking of cold, are you? Cold, I mean?” He remembered the outfit she’d been wearing for their undercover stint had left her shoulders bare. 

“A little,” she admitted, pulling away from his shoulder and the cold, damp wall. 

Ever the gentleman, he sat forward as well, pulling his suit jacket from his body. “Here,” he stretched his arm out, draping it across her shoulders, shocked at the icy feel of her skin when his fingers brushed her. “You’re more than a  _ little  _ cold,” he contradicted her, leaving his arm stretched out around her back and pulling her into his side. “I’m not trying to take liberties, Miss Fisher, I assure you.” He’d be lying, though, if he said he hadn’t dreamt of holding her in his arms, though this was hardly the circumstances he’d imagined. 

“Of course not, Jack. I would never accuse you of anything of the sort.” She smirked when she inhaled his familiar scent, though slightly faded after their ordeal. It was a scent that had come to mean safety and comfort for her, for as long as she could remember in their partnership. “Though I want to make it clear that I am  _ not  _ complaining…”

Jack smiled at this; it was a typical Phryne-response and he was glad to hear it. He rubbed his hand along her arm, now covered by his jacket and hastened his efforts when she shivered again. Tugging her closer again, he rested his chin atop her head when she turned to press her cheek against the front of his shoulder and pulled her knees up towards her chest, rolling into a little ball-of-Phryne, practically sitting on his lap. Resigned to face his fate, his other arm came around and wrapped itself around her, circling her in an entire embrace. 

Feeling drowsy, Phryne’s eyelids drooped as warmth started seeping back into her torso. She snuck a hand out from beneath the protection of his jacket and gripped his ‘Archie Jones’ sweater vest in her fist, a vague memory flashed in her mind’s eye about their undercover personas. Details, however, were still beyond her current capabilities of remembering. 

When he spoke again, she felt his words vibrate as she pressed against him. She involuntarily reacted, this time the shiver raking her body was for a completely different reason. 

“I don’t suppose they left you in possession of your handbag?” He asked, rubbing his palm along her arm with a little more brisk. 

She shook her head. “I didn’t feel it nearby when I woke up. So they have my pistol…” Her hand flew to her thigh, squeezing it through the thin material of her skirt. “They’ve relieved me of my dagger, as well…” 

“I was thinking more about your lighter.” His eyes swept side to side slowly, trying to pick up any glimmer of light. “There must be a door to this place… I was hoping to use a flame to find our way around. They took my matches when they emptied my pockets.” 

She, too, started scanning the room in hopes of identifying any discernible shapes or exit outlines. “We could feel our way along the wall, and eventually around the room. Assuming this is just a room….”

“We may be in a basement,” he said, “given the gravel on the floor and unfinished block walls...”

“So we may be looking for a staircase as opposed to a closed door,” she finished his thought. 

“That’s a strong possibility.” 

“Can we sit just a few more minutes? Then I’ll join you in the exploration. Perhaps I can go in one direction and you in the other.” 

He shook his head definitively. “No. We should stay together, just in case this is more a labyrinth than a room.”

“Alright,” she conceded. Typically, the thoroughly modern woman would balk at having to stay close, but she knew he had a point. Being lost in an unfamiliar place without weapons, they were at a distinct disadvantage and their odds of success would be better if they stuck together. After all, there was some truth to the adage that there is strength in numbers. 

They sat and talked for what Jack estimated to be about thirty minutes. He could tell that Phryne’s temperature was stabilizing as she stopped shivering, and her voice was strong as she regaled him with humorous tales of her and her sister in their days of being pirate-girls. As the conversation lulled, he tilted his head and asked if she was ready to rise. 

“Yes,” she answered. “We should take this time to explore our surroundings.” Reaching up, she removed her cloche. “Here, we will leave my hat on the floor where we are sitting and that way we will know if we start retracing any steps.” 

“Very good thinking, Miss Fisher,” Jack praised as he helped her to her feet. 

“Well, perhaps it’s my wild imagination,” she quipped, “but it’s possible your  _ methodical _ investigative skills are wearing off on me,  _ Inspector _ .” 

Jack chuckled and led the way, feeling along the walls as they continued talking quietly. He suspected that Miss Fisher’s inability to remain quiet was due, in part, to the discomfort of being in a dark place, though she hadn’t disclosed specific details. He let her ramble on and on as they turned one corner, then another, and two more. When his foot hit something on the floor, he reached down and found her hat, now squashed beneath his shoe. 

“Oh, uh,” he muttered as his fingers flexed around the object. Not realizing he’d stopped, she ran into him from behind and held his arm as he turned towards her. “My apologies, Miss Fisher…. It seems we are back where we started.” He found her hand, pushing her ruined accessory into her grasp. “It was too late by the time I noticed…”

Gripping her crushed headpiece, she tucked it into the pocket of her borrowed jacket. “It’s quite alright, Jack. You couldn’t have known…” Sighing heavily, she looped her hand around his bicep, comforted by his close proximity. “Any bright ideas, now,  _ Archie _ ?” 

“I’m afraid not,  _ Fern, _ ” he countered, biting back a grin despite their predicament. “There was no door that I could feel, no stairwell, no entrance along the lengths of these walls…” He covered her hand with his, holding her fingers in place against his arm as he leaned back against the cool wall again. “I can't get over how dark it is…” He directed his eyes upward, to the level he’d estimate would hold a window or two in a normal basement. 

Suddenly, Phryne’s eyes started to see  _ something _ , almost ghost-like. She couldn’t quite focus, but at the same time, her vision seemed to be clearing. Staring up at, she estimated, the center area of the ceiling, she could almost make out a rectangle. Squeezing her fingers, she interrupted Jack’s musings. 

  
“Jack, up there,” she pointed uselessly then rolled her eyes at her movements. She reached across her body and found his jaw. With a gentle shift of direction, she hoped he was facing the right direction. “On the ceiling...is that...  _ a door? _ ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postscript A/N I would love to hear what you think! Please take a moment to share your thoughts! 
> 
> peace & love, my friends  
> ~jazzy


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Welcome back! Thanks so much for returning for the next installment, I hope that’s a sign that you’re enjoying this little tale!

With a little concentration, Jack, too, could see a faint outline. “It could be a… trap door… we were probably brought down here through it… Well spotted, Miss Fisher.” 

He started to move towards the shape, only slightly surprised when she slid her fingers from where they gripped his arm and quickly found his hand. Although her touch was unexpected, it was not unwelcome, so he gently squeezed her fingers, wordlessly telling her that he was comfortable with the contact. Once they were standing beneath the rectangle, it was clear that it was, in fact, a pass-through of some sort. The faintest glow of light could be seen along the edges where the seal was not as tight as one might like. Side by side, they craned their necks to look up, and Phryne tilted her head. 

“Well, I think the solution here is obvious.” 

Jack blinked in thought. “And what solution might that be, Miss Fisher?” 

She shifted her attention back to her partner, eyes upturned to his profile that she couldn’t see. With a flippant shoulder shrug, she informed him matter-of-factly. “You give me a boost, of course,” she turned her attention back towards their only means of escape. “And I push my way out…” 

“Absolutely not.” His head whipped around and his eyes flared, though he knew she wouldn’t see them. “What if Big Tommy and his cronies are up there waiting? I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to poke your head through there without protection.” Subconsciously, he pulled his hand closer to his body, naturally pulling her close as well. “We’ll simply need to find another way.”

“Pish-posh, Jack!” She released his hand and stepped in front of him, close enough to feel the heat from his chest permeate into her own. “We can’t see anything down here, we’ve already circumnavigated the perimeter and found nothing, and it’s hardly wise for us to wait for them to come back down here. Much smarter for us to have the element of surprise!” She placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him down to his knees. “Now, give me a boost!” 

Against his better judgement, he found himself acquiescing to her bidding, interlocking his fingers slightly behind her ankle so she could feel where his hands were. Ignoring the flush in his cheeks he was grateful she wouldn’t see, he inhaled slowly and nudged her foot. 

“Step onto my hands, then, and hold onto my shoulders.” Once he held her foot, he looked up. “When you’re close enough, stay quiet and listen first, before you try to push on it. Make sure you don’t hear anything.” 

“Of course,” she tested the placement of her foot in his hands. “Alright, I’m ready.” 

With relative ease, Jack pushed up with his legs, taking Miss Fisher with him. Straining only slightly under the additional weight, he was thankful for his own exercise regimen, and he tried to, once again, ignore the sharp pain in his side. With a sudden awareness, he also tried not to focus on her breasts as they ended up at eye level. Turning his head sideways, he closed his eyes to clear his thoughts and then turned them skyward. 

“Do you hear anything?” He whispered loudly as his partner’s toes pressed down against his grip. 

“I’m still too far away, Jack.” She looked down at him. “Can you lift me higher?” 

With a grunt, he hitched her a few inches higher, though he knew he was reaching his limitations. “How’s that?”

She shook her head. “A little more?” Her fingertips could reach the wooden slats, but she was still a bit too far to hear anything overhead. 

Pulling every bit of strength in his wiry muscles, he managed only a little more height. 

“Almost there…”

“I’m afraid that’s it, Miss Fisher…” he started to lower her again. 

She harrumphed in frustration. She had been surprised at Jack’s strength; he didn’t look muscular but he proved to be more powerful than she expected. Still, through no fault of his own, it wasn’t quite high enough. 

“Well,” she said once her feet were back on solid ground, “lift me up on your shoulders.”

“What?!” Jack nearly choked. “No.” 

“What’s wrong? That extra height will give me the final distance I need to reach the ceiling.” 

She sounded a little too excited for Jack’s liking. “There must be another way. There must be a ladder or something in this room. We just didn’t search enough.” He placed his hands on his hips. “We only walked the perimeter. We need to walk wall-to-wall, crossways.” He was wracking his brain - he didn’t think he would be able to ever look at her the same if  _ that part  _ of her body was so close to his head… Necessity or not… 

“C’mon, Jack!” She rolled her eyes. “This will be a much more effective method and a far better use of our time. She found his shoulders again and physically turned him around so his back was to her. With a slight pressure from her fingertips, he started to squat and she smirked at his willingness to go along with her plan, even though he was doing so with a grumble. 

“Ok,” she said. “Ready?” 

“Come on, then,” he muttered and reached over his shoulders so she could grab his hands for stability. “One leg at a time, Miss Fisher. Hold my hands.” 

With relative ease, Phryne settled on the Inspector's surprisingly wide shoulders, her hands still holding his tight. With a slight wobble, she set herself to rights by hooking her feet around his ribcage. 

“Alright,” she said quietly. “Ready when you are…” 

Pressing up with his thighs, he stood slowly at a steady rate, still holding her hands. He gritted his teeth, nearly blinded by the pain in his side. 

“Perfect!” She whispered loudly, releasing their right hands but keeping their lefts joined. She pressed her palm against the ceiling of their prison and tilted her head, listening carefully. 

“Do you hear anything?” He asked from below and she had to concentrate hard to ignore the way the low rumble of his voice traveled through her legs to their apex, which was settled against the back of his neck. 

“Shh,” she hissed in response, hearing a noise from above. “There’s… something….”

He waited as patiently as possible, his left hand holding hers tight and his right palm and splayed fingers spread out over her thigh. “Talking? Do you hear voices?”

“Only  _ yours _ , Inspector, now  _ hush _ !” As if she needed to remind him of their physical proximity to each other, she squeezed her legs tighter around his neck and shifted so her toes tucked around his back, following the lines of his scapulae. 

Grunting, he bit back a retort, rolling his eyes instead as he squeezed her thigh in response. 

After a few moments, Phryne couldn’t hear anything more and she looked down towards Jack. “I’m going to try and push on the trap door. I think whoever was there is gone.” 

“Alright. Do it quietly and just a little bit.” 

Finding the edge that appeared the loosest, she pushed gently, allowing it to open just enough for her fingertips to peek through. With the door opened, she couldn’t hear any movement or sounds. Pushing a little more, she managed to get her forehead high enough to just give her a sliver of sight at the world above them. It took a second to adjust to the brightness of day after being stuck in the dark for an unknown amount of time. Squinting, her eyes swept from side to side, looking for any indication of habitation in the environs. 

She lowered the door quietly and looked down at Jack, patting the hand that was anchored to her leg. “Put me down, Jack.” 

He squatted down again, welcoming the familiar burn in his hamstrings as he stretched them. Once she could, she climbed safely from his shoulders and stood by his side looking up.

“I don’t hear anyone there anymore and I couldn’t see anything besides furniture legs. I think the door is set behind some sort of desk or table, as there is a chair settled right beside the larger furnishings.” She licked her lips. “I’m going to need to stand on your shoulders, Jack. I won’t be able to pull myself up otherwise.”

“I don’t like it…”

“I don’t see how that’s _relevant_ in this situation, Jack. I am all about equal rights for women, but even I know my strength limit does not exceed enough to be able to lift you.” She tilted her head even though he couldn’t see it. “So unless you are like _Peter Pan…”_

Jack knew she was right. And what was worse, she was mocking him by throwing his own ‘Peter Pan’ quip back at him, twisted with a different meaning now, of course. Swallowing his fate, he put his hands on his hips. 

“Shoes off, Miss Fisher. I don’t want to be impaled by a stiletto in my shoulder…” 

“They’re hardly stilettos, Inspector… but your point is valid.” She bent over to unbuckle her Mary Janes, slipping them into the jacket pockets. 

“Be careful,” he said, when she was standing back in front of him. “Open it slow and steady. Listen for anything that might indicate you’ve been observed. Don’t climb out completely until you’ve done a complete survey, 360-degrees around you… the last thing we need is for you to be surprised from behind.” 

She shook her head. Phryne understood that it was against every fiber in Jack’s body to allow her to emerge before he first checked for danger. Given their circumstances, however, they had little choice. 

“If you see a ladder nearby, pass it down. Or something else that could be useful for me to climb up on. Otherwise, get the hell out, Phryne. Don’t wait around for me, you get yourself to safety. Then find a telephone and ring the station. Don’t hang around up there on your own.” 

She nodded again, though he couldn’t see her. She trusted that Jack knew she was paying attention. 

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid once you’re up there, Phryne.” He used her given name, drawing her attention to his seriousness. 

“I’ll get help Jack.”

He reached blindly and found her hands. “And don’t risk your safety for mine. You get up there and get out at the first sign that someone’s noticed you. Don’t worry about me. Get hold of Collins. He and the lads can come back for me.” 

She squeezed his hands and pressed forward, planting a kiss on his lips in an impulsive move. “I’ll be careful Jack.” She promised against his mouth. “You be careful, too, while you wait for me.” 

He nodded wordlessly and pressed another kiss to her mouth, as if for good luck. Then, he dropped to one knee and held her steady as she climbed up. Studiously avoiding the fact that her crotch was, at one,  _ albeit brief _ , moment, in front of his face before she turned around, he steeled himself against straying thoughts, focusing instead on the potential danger ahead. Once he released her hands, one at a time as she reached up to the ceiling beams, he wrapped his hands around her ankles, holding her firmly in place as she pushed up on the door slowly. 

Without warning, a clattering noise erupted in the room above, startling Phryne and threatening to knock her off balance. Jack swayed in place, widening his stance to maintain balance and reaching up with one hand as he whispered loudly. 

“Reach down Phryne! Grab my hand!”

But it was too late. She completely lost her equilibrium and started to fall, calling out involuntarily. “Jack!!” 

“Phryne!” He released her other ankle and pivoted perfectly, grabbing her torso as she slipped. He pulled her against his body to soften her landing, knowing he was falling backwards with no hope in catching himself. 

Just as his back hit the floor. The air whooshed from his lungs with a harsh gasp, and Phryne landed unceremoniously on top of him. His face was cradled in her décolletage just as a sound of surprise echoed down from above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postscript A/N These two really do find themselves in the most unbelievable predicaments… I’d love to hear what you think so far!! 
> 
> peace & love, my friends  
> ~jazzy


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N Hey there! I hope that you and your loved ones are doing alright managing COVID-19 anxiety and stress, no matter where you are in the whole wide world! Virtual hugs to you from Florida!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postscript A/N Thank goodness the JazzyMuse guided Hugh and the rest of City South in the right direction! 
> 
> peace & love, my friends,   
> ~jazzy

“Sir? Miss?!” 

Peering into the darkness, Constable Hugh Collins hovered over the trap door he’d discovered. He could hear grunting noises made by familiar voices, but couldn’t see anything through the plumes of dust kicked up by the toppling duo when they’d been startled from their attempt at escape. 

“Inspector?! Are you down there?” 

Just then, as the dust began to clear and Jack attempted to respond through the soft, sweet-scented perfume he recognized so well, Hugh took in the scene below him. 

“ _Oh,_ uhhhh… s-sorry, Sir… I, well, we thought you might have needed... _rescuing…_ I, uhhmm... I might have been mistaken….” The young, naive constable completely misinterpreted what he was looking at, assuming that he had inadvertently caught his boss and the lady detective engaged in something that would eliminate his ability to _ever_ again make eye contact with either of them. 

Phryne took the scenario in with an easy stride. Remaining in place atop Jack, her legs straddling his thighs easily and her skin tickling with each of his exhalations against her breasts, she arched her neck to look up. With a broad smile, she tried to imagine the picture they must make. 

“Hullo, Hugh!” Her sing-song voice floated up through the opening and she recognized the grunt from below. 

“Collins, get us the hell _out of here,”_ Jack growled, but kept his hands in place on her hips. “Find a ladder or something useful!” 

“Y-Yes, Sir!” Collins stood up straight at the order. “Just a moment, please, Sir…” he looked around, motioning to one of his fellow contables when he spotted the rickety wooden three-step stool that had been hastily cast aside when the occupants attempted (without success, he reminded himself smugly) to escape. “Give that here! Quick!” He waved his hand frantically. “I’ve found the Inspector and Miss Fisher.”

Handing the small ladder down through the hole in the floor, Hugh remained poised to assist Miss Fisher as she climbed up with Jack’s assistance from below. Moments later, he grasped Jack’s forearm and helped his boss emerge. 

“Collins,” Jack acknowledged, ignoring the ever-sharpening pain in his side as his trusty constable pulled him up. 

“Sir!” Hugh moved his palm from his boss’s forearm to his hand, shaking it vigorously. “Sir, it’s so good to see you, we were all so worried…” 

Jack grimaced as his young protege shook his arm up and down. “Yes, Hugh, thank you…” His eyes glanced around at the chaotic scene, trying to distract himself and hoping that no one noticed his discomfort. His notorious poker-face had failed in this instance. 

“Are you alright, Inspector?” Hugh asked, concern etched on his face as he tried to maneuver in front of his idol.

“Fine,” Jack responded too eagerly, his gaze swiveling to locate Miss Fisher. Spotting his partner, he turned a disbelieving expression to Hugh again. “You allowed  _ Miss Williams _ to accompany you and the lads on this  _ raid?! _ What were you thinking, Collins?” 

Hugh’s startled blue eyes turned up from where he was trying to inspect Jack’s posture. “She… She was ever so worried about Miss Fisher… And you, of course, Sir… She was frantic with worry for you both… I couldn’t leave her behind…” 

Ignoring his pain, he leaned in and growled. “You  _ could  _ have and you  _ should  _ have, Collins. What if something had gone horribly wrong with the raid? What then?” 

“I made sure she waited by the cars until the worst was over,” he defended himself, somewhat distracted and hurried to continue. “Sir, are you quite sure you’re alright? You’re standing a bit-” 

“I’m fine, Collins,” he dismissed the younger man’s concern with a wave. “Tell me what happened. I want details.” 

Back on track, Hugh stood straight. “Yes, sir. You’ll be happy to know that we captured the men who did this to you and Miss Fisher. And, there was a squealer among them, telling us not only where we could find you, but also where Big Tommy had gone underground into hiding.” Collins smiled proudly, despite the overall situation. “The Commissioner took a team to track Tommy down while our team were dispatched here to locate you.” 

Jack nodded, looking around as a team of junior and senior constables, and two Sergeants, collected various bits of evidence. “Make sure they do everything by the book, Collins,” Jack moved his hand to press against his side. “I want this case airtight. Miss Fisher could have been severely injured…” 

“But, Sir,” Hugh began, pointing towards the blood stain that the Inspector was attempting to hide. “Aren’t you bleed-”

A sharp glare from Jack stopped Hugh mid-sentence, but any further discussion was abruptly thwarted.

“Jack!” Miss Fisher sidled up alongside the Inspector, a tiny pout on her lips. “Dot  _ insists  _ that I need to go to hospital. I told her I just needed a hot bath and a soft bed.” She brazenly slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, not noticing the unusual tension between her Inspector and his subordinate. “You’ve had experience with being drugged, you told me so when we were in the basement, would you  _ please  _ assure her that there’s no need to make such a fuss.” 

Jack tried to stifle the grimace triggered by Phryne unexpectedly grabbing onto his arm. He’d been extremely careful downstairs to keep her on his uninjured side, not at all letting on about his wound. Unable to assess it yet himself, he was only hopeful that it wouldn’t prove to be fatal. Jack knew of few things that truly stirred fear in the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher, but sensed innately that waking in the pitch dark had unsettled her immensely; the tremors in her voice had told him as much. She invited only a select number of people into her innermost circle, preferring to show a brave face to the world, the image of a woman who knew no fear, and he considered himself fortunate to be among the very few who were privy to her history, all the way down to the trauma of being locked in a cupboard by her own father. He had hoped that by hiding his injury, remaining calm and as natural as possible while they were trapped, it would help the Lady Detective feel less out of control. 

Now that they were in broad daylight, however, he’d have little chance at keeping her from finding out. Schooling his expression and attempting a smile, he looked at Dorothy, but before he could utter a syllable, Phryne was releasing his arm and spinning around to look at him face to face. Her keen eyes swept over his form, instantly zeroing in on the dark stain he failed to hide. 

“You’re hurt!” She grabbed his hand and pulled it away from his body, careful against causing him additional pain. “Jack!” She gasped at the sizable stain that had spread across the casual, light colored costume he’d donned for his undercover persona. “Why didn’t you say something?!” 

He tried to downplay the discomfort. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Miss Fisher…”

“This is hardly ‘ _ nothing _ ,’ Jack!” she started to lift his vest, so she could get a closer look, only to have her wrist seized in Jack’s large, but surprisingly gentle hand. 

“Miss Fisher,  _ please _ ,” he pinned her with a hard glare, speaking through his teeth and keeping his volume low. “Don’t make a fuss.” 

She searched his face, easily reading his expression — a mixture of concern and pain. She shook her head, speaking quietly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were wounded?” 

“Without the benefit of any sort of lighting, I could only assume, and hope, that the damage was not terribly extensive,” he suddenly realized he was still holding onto her wrist and released it. “I apologize, MIss Fisher,” he motioned to her hand. “I didn’t mean to —” 

She shook her head, “don’t apologize.” She raised her fingers to his chest, to the general vicinity of where his lapel would rest were he wearing a jacket. “Perhaps we  _ do  _ need to go to hospital, after all,” she said quietly.

Jack backed up a step, putting a respectable distance between them, especially since they were still in the company of his subordinates. “I agree with Miss Williams, that you should be seen to, Miss Fisher. I’m sure Dr. MacMillan will be more than willing to see to your needs, from the comfort of your home if you are opposed to going to hospital…” 

“Jack,” she challenged, recognizing his tone of voice as the one he uses when he ignores his own needs. “You are in a far worse condition than I…” 

“It’s only started bleeding again because of the strain I put on it pulling myself up from the basement.” 

“And probably from the strain of lifting me, three times...” 

“Sir!” One of his Junior Constables was trying to gain his attention, needing his consent to move their prisoners back to City South. “‘Scuse me, Sir?” 

Jack held his hand up to his officer and eyed his partner. “I’ll see the medic, Miss FIsher,” he said quietly. “But I must first deal with this. Please go. You can give your report tomorrow.” 

“Jack,” she reached absently for his hand. “You’re still bleeding…” 

“I’ll see the medic,” he insisted again, then grew softer. “I  _ promise _ , Phryne. Now, please,” he nodded towards the parked cars, spotting Bert and Cec’s cab tucked into the melee. “Let those rabble rousers take you and Miss Williams back to Wardlow, and contact Dr. MacMillan. You’re not likely to suffer any ill effects from the sedative, especially seeing as how you’re almost back to being your normal charming-freight-train-self, it’s better to be safe...” 

Recognizing the unmistakable dismissal hidden beneath a turned down smirk, and knowing that she would only upset him further if she pushed her point, she sighed in resignation. She glanced at Dot, who suddenly started tugging her arm. With a final squeeze of Jack’s fingers, she met his eyes. “Stop by later?” 

“How about tomorrow?” He compromised. “I can’t be the one to take your report, since I was involved, but I’ll accompany Mills when he calls in on you.” 

She nodded, wishing for a different answer. Jack was a stubborn man, however, and she knew he would put his duty first, even if it meant ignoring his own needs. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Hey there! So, I had today off work and had intended to get this chapter edited and posted earlier… But Kazu had different ideas… We had puppies before, but it was twenty years ago and I’d forgotten how active they are, how VERY OFTEN they need to go outside at night and how extremely obvious it is to see the muscle and weight gain. I miss sleeping through the whole night and I miss sleeping late on the weekend (and my days off!), but it’s OK, we are just adjusting to a new normal!

Miss Fisher rested her head against the towel rolled along the edge of her bathtub. Closing her eyes, she inhaled slowly, grateful for Dot’s foresight in adding the perfect combination of oils to soothe her body  _ and  _ her mind. Steam carried the aromas of lavender, rosemary and yarrow oils through the room

She listened absently as her loyal companion bustled around, nervously cleaning and wiping down surfaces that were already spotless. Dot rambled on about her nephews and their nonsensical antics, shared the latest gossip that she’s heard at the previous week’s church fête, and babbled about her blunder when Hugh tried to kiss her at the pier on their last date. 

“Oh, I was so embarrassed, Miss Phryne,” her back was to her mistress as she polished the back of her employers silver hand mirror. “I didn’t expect him to lean in when he did, and I turned away to point out a boat on the horizon and just like that, his lips were bumping against my ear, his nose pushed up on my hat and it toppled down over the railing, landing in the waves below…” The young woman lamented the loss of her favorite millinery accessory. “I will have to speak to Mrs.Turner to ask if she is able to secure another one… I loved that hat…” 

When she received no acknowledgement to her tale, she looked over her shoulder. Miss Fisher was resting in the hot bath, her eyes closed and her brow wrinkled slightly, as if lost in thought. Dot suddenly felt foolish for chattering nervously about her mundane activities. 

“I’m sorry, Miss,” she turned timidly. “Here I am yammering away and disturbing what should be a peaceful time for you…”

“No, Dot,” Phryne opened her eyes. “Don’t apologize. I enjoy hearing about your days and the things happening in your life. I’m just distracted… but,” she raised her finger. “I know the perfect shoppe at which we can procure a replacement cloche for you. And it will be my treat to you.” 

“No, Miss!” Dorothy didn’t want her mistress to spend unnecessary money on her. “If Mrs. Turner doesn’t have a similar style in stock, she can usually order them. It typically only takes a couple months for them to arrive. I believe she orders them from the continent.” 

“Pish posh, Dot. What good is my money if I can’t use some of it to spoil those I care about? You deserve the best, and you shall have it.” She smiled at the girl, knowing that Dot was careful with her salary, spending only what she must. The young woman had been working on building her own savings account. Phryne had plenty to sustain her current lifestyle and wanted to give Dot a present. A new hat would be a lovely gesture, she thought. “I won’t take no for an answer, Dot,” she rested her head back again, closing her eyes and biting back a smile. Gifting well-deserved presents made her feel good. 

Dorothy fiddled with the towel and cloth in her hand, watching her employer. “That’s ever so generous of you, Miss Phryne… thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it, Dot. I’m happy to do it.” She turned and opened her eyes, smiling warmly. “It’s the least I can do for you,” she said quietly, “after you’ve done so much for me…”

Dorothy knew that her Miss Phryne had been touched to see her when she was pulled from that horrible dungeon, but the option of being any place else never even entered Dot’s mind. She had to be there when Hugh and the other lads from City South went searching for the detectives. 

“It must have been terrifying, Miss Phryne,” Dot said quietly, finally feeling brave enough to address the thoughts that had been running through her mind. “To be kidnapped and taken away to a basement… What a harrowing experience to go through…” she watched as Miss Fisher’s eyes blinked slowly. “But you were so brave. When Hugh and Troy pulled you out of that hole in the floor, you looked so confident…” She folded her hands. “You were calmer than I was… and I hadn’t even been in harm’s way!” 

Phryne watched her companion-turned-friend grow serious and melancholy. 

“I don’t remember the part when we were kidnapped…” She rolled her neck again, so she was staring at the ceiling once more. “I remember Jack, Inspector Robinson, picking me up for our undercover outing… arriving at the dance club… and then I remember waking up in the dark… I was confused waking up because my body ached from the way I was laying…” She wrinkled her forehead again… “I don’t know how I knew it, but even though I couldn’t see, I somehow knew that Jack was there with me…”

“You couldn’t see?” 

She shook her head, still leaning against her towel-pillow. “No… it was pitch dark; darker than any night I’ve ever seen…”

Dorothy shivered, frightened for her Miss, but impressed as always at the older woman’s ability to persevere. “I’m just so thankful our prayers were answered and the Deputy Commissioner was able to make the connection between his prisoners and their hide-out… When he sent the City South boys to rescue you and the Inspector, he took a team into North Melbourne and flushed out Big Tommy and his horrible cronies…”

Phryne knew that Sanderson had, in fact, been working on the same case when she and Jack were rescued. She hoped that, in the process, no one else had fallen victim to Tommy Bellows and his evil ways. 

“Mac says that I will likely remember more after I’ve rested some… It’s probably best that I won’t be asked to give my statement until tomorrow, to give my brain time to recuperate.” She ran her palms along her thighs, soothing an ache deep in her muscles. “Jack also said I will get my memories back… He hinted that he’s had experience with similar drugs. And I believe him.” 

Dorothy smiled. “When Hugh stopped by on his way home, he said the Inspector saw the doctor as promised, but he was right back sitting in his office after the meeting. Said he had more to take care of before going home for the night...” 

Phryne chuckled and shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t know why I’m surprised that he didn’t go home straight away… That man doesn’t know how to unwind, even after being kidnapped!” 

She quickly plunged her head beneath the surface of the water, trying no to think about Jack’s injury, but innately suspecting that, had blood not been visible, he would have kept silent about the wound altogether. 

_ Stubborn man!  _

_ Wonderful, stubborn man!  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postscript A/N  
> Sorry this chapter was a bit short, this just felt like the best place to break. Forgive me? 
> 
> peace & love, my friends,   
> ~jazzy


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I want to take a moment to say a GREAT BIG THANKS to those of you who have taken time to comment or leave Kudos, it really means a lot!! For a hobby-writer, it is really amazing to learn that some of the ideas that bubble up inside are appreciated by others!!

Placing her empty teacup onto her night stand, Phryne leaned back into her plush pillows, snuggling down into the warmth of her equally-plush comforter. She had finally convinced Dot that she didn’t need baby-sitting and sent her downstairs, where she might like to use the bright lights in the parlor to work on her embroidery. She closed her eyes, desperately wanting to rest, needing to calm her still-edgy nerves. Without warning, and without invitation, she started seeing flashes of the previous night, quick glimpses into the recesses of her mind as her brain struggled to make sense of the photographic images floating past her closed eyelids. 

They’d been undercover, sitting in the bar flirting with one another as they observed the goings on around them. Phryne used their secret identities to permit herself the luxury of ogling Jack in all his delicious splendor. He was dressed more casually than she had ever seen, but still impeccably clean and pressed. He had opted for a modern-cut suit, a much jazzier look than the Detective-Inspector-Armour that he usually donned, and the look suited him well. The sweater vest he wore beneath the well-cut jacket was more modern than Archie’s was when he posed as a radio announcer, but subtle enough to allow them to remain anonymous. His hair was left  _ almost _ pomade-free, his wonderful, riotous curls, left to their own devices, fell over his forehead in such a way that she’d caught herself on more than one occasion, wanting to run her fingers through them, if for no other reason than to feel their thick silkiness. 

She felt herself smiling as she thought about the other women in the club that night. She knew they’d been admiring him as well; two were even bold enough to approach him and hint at their desire for him to ask them to dance. Jack seemed oblivious, however, to the blatant offers, smiling kindly and dismissing them with mention of his companion for the evening. Phryne felt proud to be at Jack’s side, even if they were only on an undercover date. 

The band played an amazing selection of tunes, ranging from standards to modern pieces, and the dance floor was never empty. She hadn’t been expecting it, but at one point, with his eyes locked on a location at the far end of the room, he leaned towards her. Whispering against the side of her head, his voice husky and his breath tickling her skin, he invited her to dance... A sinfully slow, seductive number had just started.

Pulling back in surprise, she eyed him as if she didn’t know who this man was or what he’d done with her Inspector. But still, she smiled and nodded, accepting his outstretched hand and following him to a shadowy corner of the dance floor. 

When he pulled her close, she actually felt faint… and the breath rushed from her lungs as she met his eyes. 

“Did you…” she licked her lips. “Did you see something over here that we need to keep an eye on?” 

“No,” his hand splayed wide across her lower back in a bold move to pull her body against his without hesitation. “I want to dance with you because you look so lovely,” his nose brushed against the wispy hairs purposely left loose near her ear. “And I don’t know when I’ll ever have the opportunity to do this again,” he dipped her quickly, pulling her back up with an expertise that left Phryne speechless. “Besides, if we continue to just sit there nursing our drinks, we’re going to draw unwanted attention to ourselves…” 

With that, Jack started leading her with surprising ease. Phryne didn’t know exactly what to expect when her partner asked her to dance, but  _ this  _ certainly wasn’t it… Jack was a skilled dancer, light on his feet and confident in his lead. The lady detective threw her head back and laughed in joyous realization that Jack Robinson was, without a doubt, an endless source of mysteries.

They had  _ fun _ dancing. Pure, unadulterated fun, though Jack’s eyes were constantly roving the room. By the end of their third dance, he pulled her close and suggested they call it a night. He hadn’t spotted Big Tommy at all that evening, nor any of his known associates. Escorting her back to their seats, to settle their tab, they found the barman placing two new drinks on their spots. 

“Thought you coul’ use a refresh’r aft’a your dancin’,” he smiled. His accent was thick and difficult to understand over the volume of the trumpet's wail, but Jack smiled back indulgently, pulling money from his wallet enough to settle their tab plus the refills. 

He chuckled and toasted his undercover date as Phryne tossed her drink back quickly, claiming that his surprising moves on the dance floor had rendered her positively parched. In contrast, Jack drank slowly, letting his eyes travel the length of the room one last time. Squinting in slight confusion, he saw their barman slipping through the crowd, hurrying towards a back door and when he swiveled his attention back to the bar, their original bartender was helping another patron. With a sense of unease, he lifted the glass back to his lips, sipping slowly as he looked around again but was instantly distracted when Phryne’s hand darted out and grabbed his forearm. 

“Jack,” she whispered loudly. “I’m not feeling well…” Her eyes were huge, looking from her now-empty glass to his mostly-empty tumbler. “Something’s wrong,” she started to speak, her words slurring. 

Jack jumped to his feet and pulled her upright. “We have to get out of here, Miss Fisher,” he growled, his own balance suddenly feeling off. _"Now!"_

“My wrap,” she motioned towards the coat-check, oddly concerned with her sartorial appearance. 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he grunted, pulling her towards the closest exit. “We need fresh air and the cold might be to our benefit…”

“Jack…” she muttered, not comprehending their situation. “What’s happening…”

She remembered Jack talking to her, his voice muffled as he tried to escort her out of the dance club. She didn’t understand what he was saying, however, and her legs failed to cooperate, forcing him to practically carry her. 

He pushed open the door and, keeping her tucked safely beside him, did a cursory examination of the alleyway. Not spotting anyone nearby, he pulled her out and started ushering her towards the nearest cross street, barely containing his urge to run. 

A strong pair of hands grabbed her from behind, roughly yanking her from Jack’s arms. Her Detective Inspector spun around and managed to land a solid punch against her captor’s temple, knocking him to the ground and leaving her stumbling to remain upright. When he tried to reach out to her, Jack found himself in a headlock from behind. He bucked his head backwards, and, as a satisfying crack echoed through the night air, broke the assailant’s nose. 

Two more men stepped in from the shadows. One grabbed Phryne as her legs finally gave out from beneath her. The larger of the two took a knife to Jack’s side when he tried to lash out against the man laying hands on Miss Fisher. 

“Don’t touch her!” Jack threatened through gritted teeth as he was pulled further away. 

She didn’t remember anything more until she woke up in the darkness, confused and, though she hated to admit it, even to herself,  _ scared _ . 

Pushing upright in her bed, gasping for breath, her eyes panned her bedroom wildly. Brushing at her arms nervously, her mind had transported her back to her childhood. Her father, in his drunken stupors, has often taken to locking her in a cupboard or in the basement. The cupboards, she didn’t mind so much, there was usually something inside with which she would amuse herself until her mother managed to pull her out. The basement, however… that was horrible. Damp, cold and dark, she spent the duration of her solitary confinement brushing away bugs and spiders as they crawled across her skin. Her father had done a great many things in her childhood to make her dislike him, but his tendency to sentence her to the basement for simply being an active and imaginative girl was unforgivable. 

She laid back again, trying to force her mind back to the surprising dancing skills of her partner. The more she thought about his arms, his scent, his noble demeanor, the more she realized how much she enjoyed being with him in a social setting. Her brain swiftly moved from pleasant thoughts of dancing to memories of him fighting - his raging anger when the men had jumped them. He was fighting for  _ her  _ safety, kept warning the men to keep their hands off  _ her _ , he was less interested in his  _ own  _ well-being and focused in full on hers. 

Glancing at her clock, she noted the hour.  _ He should be home by now _ , she told herself. 

Rising from bed, she pulled on her robe, cinching it tightly at her waist, and marched downstairs. She could hear the sounds of her found-family spilling out into the hall from the kitchen. Cec and Bert were regaling Mr. Butler with a tale of questionable facts and Dot was reprimanding them for their exaggerations. Phryne smiled at the sounds and picked up get telephone. 

“Please connect me to Richmond 2274,” she directed the operator, and waited for the line to be answered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postscript A/N   
> Thanks for reading! As hinted at in my opening Author’s Note, I’d love to hear from you!
> 
> peace & love, my friends,   
> ~jazzy


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N We are closing in on the end of the fic… I hope you’ve enjoyed the journey so far. If all goes to plan, we have one more chapter after this one. Enjoy!

A knock at his office door startled him back into awareness. He knew who it was without even looking up. Turning his wrist, Jack’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the hour displayed on his watch, it was much later than he realized. 

“Miss Fisher,” he tilted his head at her hesitation at entering his office. Typically she didn’t knock and wait for an invitation, yet, she stood at the threshold and waited for his consent. He motioned to the chair opposite his own, watching as she moved slowly. “It’s late, are you quite alright?” 

She nodded, and took her chair. “It  _ is  _ late, Jack,” she acknowledged. “But, you’re still here…” 

Jack closed the folder he was working on and folded his hands. “Yes. I went home briefly, to shower and change clothes. I was too wired to relax, though, so I came back to catch up on some reports that I’ve been neglecting.” 

Phryne scooted to the front of her chair and reached for one of the folders, opening it without permission and reviewing the contents absently. 

Jack watched her for a moment, noting how tired she looked and wondered at her solemness. “Miss Fisher, is something wrong?” 

She inhaled slowly and closed the folder, slipping it back onto his desk. Her intent had been to put up a brave face, as normal, float in here and create a little bit of her own special brand of chaos. She couldn’t fake it, though, not for Jack. “Did you see the medic, Jack?” 

He nodded, his hands still folded. “I did,” his lips turned downward. “Fear not, Miss Fisher, I assure you, I’ll survive. It only required a few stitches.”

She smiled softly, nodding in acknowledgment, then dropped her eyes to her lap, saying nothing for several minutes. Phryne appreciated that he remained silent, almost as if he knew she needed time to sort her jumbled thoughts. After a few moments, she continued. “Do you remember it?” She asked quietly, studying the hem of her skirt with interest. Lifting her eyes, she met Jack’s warm grays and clarified. “Do you recall when we were taken, I mean… Has your memory returned?” 

Jack nodded, sitting back in his chair. “Yes, I do, Miss Fisher.” 

“When did you start to recall?” 

He shrugged slightly. “I had flashes of it when we were still in the basement. I recalled the details when the doctor was stitching me up… He tilted his head. “Did you start to remember?” 

Phryne rolled her lips between her teeth. “I did… when I was trying to rest, after my bath,” she admitted. “You know, Jack,” she scooted forward as far as possible. “I often claim that I can take care of myself… And typically, that is true…  _ But _ , I know I owe you a debt of gratitude. You fought when I was unable to, and what did you get for your efforts? A blade through your ribs. All because of me...” 

Jack immediately pushed up from his chair and moved to squat before her. He didn’t think twice about his actions, and took her hand in his. 

“Phryne,” he sandwiched her thin hand between both of his. “I wasn’t stabbed because of you. I was stabbed because Big Tommy’s goon took it upon himself to do so.” He saw the argument in her eyes and just shook his head. “Besides, it was hardly through my ribs,” he assured her. 

“No, Jack, if it wasn’t for me-“ 

“If it wasn’t for you, Miss Fisher,” he wanted to confess his feelings, to tell her that if it wasn’t for her, that he wouldn’t have had anything worth fighting so hard for, no drive to flush out the criminal underbelly they faced last night… He didn’t confide these details to her, however, knowing they wouldn’t be welcomed in the way he would prefer. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts and squeezed her hand before depositing it back into her lap. “It wasn’t your fault, Phryne. I dismiss the charges.” 

“Jack,” she huffed, thinking back to the last time he tried to do the same. “You can’t keep dismissing the charges against me when I’m deserving of them.” 

“I am  _ Senior  _ Detective Inspector Jack Robinson… I can dismiss charges as I see fit.” He boldly reached up and brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek. “And you are, in no way, deserving of such blame.” 

“But—”

“End of discussion, Phryne.” He eyed her seriously and pushed back up from his squatting position, leaning against the front of his desk. “It’s  _ not  _ your fault, Miss Fisher.” 

Wordlessly, they sat together for several moments, each lost in thought. After a while, Miss Fisher broke the silence. “I tried to call your home,” she admitted. “When I didn’t get an answer, I knew you must have been here…” 

Jack nodded. “As I said, I was feeling… wound up. I have often found it best to just work through my restlessness.” He shrugged one shoulder and smirked crookedly. “Were it daytime, I would have been out cycling or tending my garden...” 

Phryne smiled at this, a new little mystery about her Inspector revealed. Piece by piece, she was determined to peel back the many layers that made up Jack Robinson. Here he was, seated in his office late at night in his shirt sleeves and loosened tie, diligently working on files that had been awaiting his attention, and he didn’t even ask for help from any of his Constables, though it would have been completely acceptable to do so. Her eyes swept across his desk again and she tilted her head, noting the number of folders piled in his customary  _ Completed  _ corner as opposed to the considerably smaller  _ Pending  _ pile. “How late do you plan to work tonight, Jack?” 

Jack pondered his answer, wondering what she might like to hear from him. He frowned slightly, scanning the remaining work on his desk, then eyed her sideways. “I’ve finished quite a bit already, I suppose I can wrap up for the weekend.” He stood and circled his desk. “If you are interested in company, Miss Fisher, for a night cap, that is,” he smiled with his eyes. “I’m happy to meet you at Wardlow.” 

Her eyes sparkled. “Actually, I had Bert and Cec bring me here, and when I saw your motor car outside, I sent them away. So, I’ll wait for you to finish, if you don’t mind.” She flipped her hair and rose to her feet, walking over to the poster on his wall to study it nonchalantly. 

Jack chuckled at her cheek, happy to see her impish expression return. “I see.” He signed the papers he had started before she arrived, tossing the folder into his Completed pile. “So you just assumed, did you, that I’d be willing to escort you home?” Of course he would escort her home, he thought, but couldn’t resist teasing her. 

Phryne saw her opportunity and spun on her heel. “Actually,” she felt almost shy, but determined in her quest. “I was thinking more along the lines of asking you to drive me to your house.” 

Jack choked on the last of his tea, caught completely unawares at her bold suggestion. 

“Excuse me?” He looked over his shoulder at her. She looked mighty proud of herself. 

“Well, Jack,” she tossed her hair again and hopped up onto his desk, scooting to her normal perch on the corner. She crossed her legs, smiling down at him. “For as long as we’ve known each other, and for all the time we’ve spent together, you’ve never once invited me to your home.” She shrugged and arched an eyebrow. “I would like to know why... Annnd, I would like to see your home.” 

“Well, Miss Fisher,” Jack folded his hands across his lap, flicking his eyes at her legs and back up. “A divorced police officer inviting a wealthy, single socialite to his home is hardly acceptable behavior.” He leaned forward, dipping his chin and eyeing her from beneath his eyelids. “Think of the scandal, Miss Fisher,” the corners of his lips tugged downward, hiding his secret smile. “Think of your reputation, Miss Phryne Fisher,” he whispered. “What would your peers say?” 

She barked in laughter at his conspiracy theory, throwing her head back. It felt so good to laugh, and lately it seemed like she was only able to laugh so freely  _ with him _ . “Oh,  _ sod  _ my reputation, Jack! Since when have I ever concerned myself with what others say!?” She smiled coyly. “I think you’re more worried about what others might think of  _ you _ .” 

“Oh, yes,” he leaned back and grinned. “I would  _ hate  _ it if people thought I was courting a beautiful,  _ brilliant _ woman in public.” 

She felt herself flush and leaned towards him, her voice dipping seductively. “Is that what you’re doing, Jack?  _ Courting me? _ ” Her eyes searched his as she felt herself grow suddenly breathless. 

“Well,” he leaned into the challenge, as always  _ entirely  _ too close for propriety's sake. “A simple man, like myself, can always dream…” 

Letting her eyes drop to his lips, she subconsciously licked hers when she re-engaged his thoughtful blue-grays. “You are  _ many  _ things, Jack Robinson... but a  _ simple _ man,” her pale gaze dropped to his throat, drawn by the way his Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed, “you are  _ not _ .” 

Maintaining their intense eye contact, he tilted his head knowingly. “You know, my home is hardly the mansion that you live in… It’s more of a bungalow, really… No staff to have an evening meal waiting… No butler to set a fire in the hearth…” 

Her heart was hammering in her chest. Jack’s voice, his deep, husky timbre spoke volumes beyond his words. “It sounds perfect to me, Jack. No one to interrupt our…  _ conversations… _ ” She could see his mind calculating what was happening, and for once in her adult life, she wasn’t afraid of her own feelings. She reached out and smoothed the collar of his shirt. 

“You know,” she said carefully, “you are the  _ only  _ man to have become somewhat of a permanent fixture at my house… My butler cooks meals catered to  _ your  _ tastes. My companion bakes special batches of biscuits when she knows you’re joining me. Even my  _ rabble-rousing cabbies _ have taken a shine to you in recent months…” She tugged him gently, drawing him to his feet to stand before her. “And despite all of this, you still refuse to let me get too close to you, Jack Robinson…” 

He started to shake his head, as if ready to rebuke the accusation. Her finger pressed against his lips, stopping him from speaking. 

“If I was easily offended, Jack, I might be insulted at your lack of interest or ambition in integrating  _ me _ into  _ your _ personal life.” She gasped when he nipped at her finger, pulling it between his teeth gently as he looked down into her beguiling eyes. “I might even wonder if you’re hiding another side of yourself from me… If you’re keeping a secret woman in your life… in your home —”

Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her finger away from his lips and crashed forward, covering her mouth with his. He brought his free hand up to cradle her head, threading his fingers into the silky black strands of hair as he tilted her in the direction that he wanted. With a not-so-gentle probe, his tongue swept along her bottom lip before pressing its way into the warmth of her mouth. 

Phryne responded eagerly, sipping at his mouth and moaning at his taste. Jack’s kiss was more intense than any she could remember; it was as if he put the same level of attention into ravishing her as he did in chasing down a criminal. She shouldn’t have been surprised to find that Jack was as serious about kissing as he was anything, and she couldn’t stop her imagination from running wild, wondering if he was just as attentive in  _ other  _ activities.

Before she was ready for him to pull away, he did just that. Rubbing her nose with his, he waited for her to open her eyes. When she did, they locked on each other. He swept his thumb along her cheek and waited until he knew he had her complete attention. 

“There is no woman waiting for me at home, Phryne,” he insisted. “There hasn’t been a woman in my home for quite some time.” He was breathing heavily, as was she. “There hasn’t been a woman in my  _ life  _ for even longer…”

At his admission, she crashed forward and kissed him aggressively. She fisted the shoulder of his waistcoat with one hand and wrapped her fingers around the nape of his neck with her other. She shifted where she sat on the desk and uncrossed her legs, her knees falling open on pure instinct. 

Without permission, Jack’s body moved until he was standing between her parted thighs, his hand grabbing her hips and pulling her towards the desk’s edge. He swallowed her moan and replied with a hungry growl, practically devouring the Lady Detective’s lips. He was seconds from pushing her to lay back when a pile of folders crashed to the floor, shaking him back to reality and reminding him of where they were. 

Cradling her jaw, he eased up on their kiss, nipping playfully as he withdrew from her grip. 

“Miss Fisher, this is my office…”

“I know, Jack,” she tried to reel him back in, her eyes zeroed in on his mouth. “I can’t tell you how many variations of this we’ve done in my imagination…” 

He grabbed her hands and stilled them in their tracks, chuckling darkly. 

“Well, if your imagination is as colorful as mine, Phryne, we should both be arrested…” 

She was delighted to learn that her darling Inspector had, in fact, imagined them together in more than a platonic sense. Before she could reinstigate their activities, he backed away, looking wary as if she were a rabid animal. 

“Were you serious? About wanting to see my home, I mean...” He knew he wanted things to continue, to grow and blossom, but he needed to get her out of his office before he could do that. He knew the minute they were saved from that basement, that if she ever made the offer, he would be satisfied with whatever she would be willing to give - even if it meant only one gaudy night. For, if he could have one night with her, the memories could keep him company for the rest of his life. 

She smiled, a genuine, beautiful smile. “Does your home have books stacked floor to ceiling, and a well-worn leather chair placed in a cozy spot near the fireplace?” 

Jack’s brow wrinkled suspiciously. “How did you know?” 

She didn’t respond, just continued with her musings. “Annnnd... tucked into the corner of your front room, a piano, piled high with sheet music?” 

He cocked his head and grinned. “A third-hand 1884 Decker Brothers upright. Intricately carved, and,” he shrugged, thinking about the many scratches and faded wood panels, “well used.” He dipped his chin, “ _ but _ , it’s in my  _ den _ , not my parlor.” 

“More likely  _ well-loved  _ as opposed to  _ well-used _ , Jack,” she smiled warmly. “And I’d wager the scents of sandalwood and your pomade creme hang thick in the air, hmm?” 

“Indeed…” 

“I have imagined your home a hundred times over, Jack. My mind runs wild with images of what it might be like…” She rested her hand over his heart. “As it sounds, your home will remind me of you… and as such, I have a deep desire to know it… to know  _ you  _ better.” 

Feeling overwhelmed by the sense of desire he saw in her eyes, he found his voice with some degree of difficulty. “Do you need to notify your household not to wait up for your return this evening?” 

“I told Mr. B before I left that they could lock up and retire when they were ready and that I’d see them in the morning.”

Jack rolled his eyes and smirked. “You were  _ that _ confident?” 

“I was that  _ hopeful… _ ” She tilted her head and smiled coyly. Just as quickly, though, she turned serious. “And I… I didn’t want to be alone tonight, Jack. I wanted to be with you… even if all we do is sit in front of your fire, drinking wine and talking until the sun comes up…”

If Phryne Fisher simply wanted  _ company _ , Jack knew she could have gone anywhere to find a man to occupy her evening. The fact that she came to him, both playful and vulnerable, spoke volumes. He’d be a fool not to take her home; if it was  _ his  _ home she desired to see, so be it, he would do anything within his power for her. She only need ask. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postscript A/N  
> Thanks again!!   
> peace & love, my friends,   
> ~jazzy


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Here we are! At the end! Again, I want to say a GREAT BIG THANKS to everyone who supported this story with comments and Kudos hearts; I can’t tell you how much I look forward to checking my emails in the hopes of finding a comment or heart!

On their trip to Jack’s home, the pair felt their banter and balance return to normal, speaking casually about various topics. For the simplicity of it all, Jack was thankful; he was worried enough about the idea of possibly performing under pressure, he didn’t need an uncomfortable ride adding to the stress. 

As he pulled into the drive at the side of his bungalow, Jack turned to Phryne. “My ride home usually feels much longer,” his lips tugged, “ _ and _ a lot less entertaining.” 

Phryne laughed out loud. “Well, your  _ usual  _ ride home probably feels longer because on most nights, it involves stopping at Wardlow for a meal and a nightcap before you ever reach your door.” When he laughed along with her, she felt her heart fill with something akin to adoration. 

Jack stepped out of the car and would have come around to open her door, but she was out of her seat before he had the chance. He watched in disbelief as she reached into the backseat and extracted a small bag. 

When she turned back around, catching his surprised expression, she grinned and shrugged as a way of innocent explanation. “You really never know who will drop something in your unlocked car, Jack. Lucky for you,” she raised the upscale carpet bag slightly, “this time it was just me.” 

He shook his head and laughed, relieving her of the well-travelled luggage. “I generally use the back door,” he nodded to the rear of his home, “but, as this is your first visit, shall we use the front door, so you can have a proper introduction to my home?” 

She grinned and threaded her hand through the crook of his elbow, her delicate fingers wrapping around his bicep as she pressed against his side, soaking in his warmth. “I’m fine going through the back,” she smiled, her keen eyes taking in their surroundings and then sweeping across the lovely gardens that bordered the quiet sidewalk. “There is no need to interrupt your routine for my benefit…” 

Jack  chuckled and motioned towards the front gate. With his eyes trained forward, he felt her fall into step at his side. “Far too late for that, I’m afraid, Miss Fisher. Since first encountering your special brand of interference in Lydia Andrews’ bathroom, most of my routines have been transformed in ways that render them virtually unrecognizable now.” 

She smiled impishly, hearing the dry humor in his delivery and delighting in his playfulness. Pressing herself against his arm, she thought about how much she simply enjoyed Jack’s company. “Allow me to apologize, then, for interrupting your neat and orderly existence.” 

Escorting her up the cobblestone footpath that meandered through his front garden, he tilted his head thought. “I wasn’t complaining, Miss Fisher, just stating the facts.” 

Her cheeks grew warm with an uncharacteristic blush. Inhaling sharply, intent to deliver a witty retort, her words suddenly died in her throat. She glanced around, turning in place, a wonderful scent filling her lungs. Pulling Jack to a stop as well, she sniffed the air eagerly, raising her nose in a perfect imitation of a bloodhound on the scent of her quarry ( _ not _ that Jack would ever make the comparison aloud, lest he feel the wrath for insulting his otherwise elegant partner…). 

“What  _ is _ that, Jack?” 

Pride filled his chest; the hobby-gardener couldn’t remember the last time someone had commented on the sweet floral scents of his humble garden. He nodded towards the hedge of shrubbery running beneath his front window, the tiny white flowers glowing beneath the moonlight. 

“My osmanthus evergreens are blooming.” He placed her bag on the stone path and walked her through the grass, drawing closer to the source of the fragrance, encouraging her to sniff the blooms by doing so himself. 

They were both bent at the waist, their faces practically buried in the clusters of tiny blossoms, when she reached out and grabbed his hand, twining their fingers effortlessly. 

“Jack,” she whispered reverently, feeling as though they were standing in a sacred place. She inhaled again and turned her head to look at him, remaining bent over and engulfed in the blossoms. “They smell like  _ apricots _ !” She laughed for the pure joy of laughing and relished in the sweet scent again. “It smells like I just cut into a fresh, juicy fruit. It’s amazing! I wish I could eat it!” 

He chuckled at the innocent quality of her exclamation and at the way she licked her lips at her own imagination. He liked to think he was one of only a privileged few allowed to see her completely relaxed, removed, however briefly, from societal expectations and pretenses. 

“They are some of my favorites,” he admitted. “The roses, lavender, jasmine - they are…  _ standard _ .... Don’t get me wrong, they’re each lovely and magnificent in their own rights, but this one… It’s hard to beat this.” He sniffed again, just because she was and he was enjoying the experience of seeing them anew through her eyes. “Although,” he continued in a hushed voice, as if he didn’t want the osmanthus plants to realize he was about to disrespect them, “I have something out back that is even  _ more  _ tempting…” 

She stood upright immediately, her ever-curious eyes snapping wide. “Something more tempting than apricot-scented evergreen blossoms?” 

He chuckled softly and straightened his posture, as well. “You’ll have to wait a couple more months, though… My Port Wine Magnolia won't be in full bloom until mid-spring. ”

Phryne couldn’t stop the gleeful pout that tugged at the corners of her lips. “You’re a horrible tease, Jack Robinson! Telling me that you have something out back that trumps the decadence of these flowers, only to then tell me I have to wait!” She bent and stuck her nose back into a cluster. 

“Well, it will give you a reason to return…” He dipped down and spoke close to her ear. “When it’s in all its glory, you’d swear you were smelling a banana sundae with vanilla ice cream…”

Phryne burst out laughing as she pushed upright again. “Of  _ course _ , you have flowers that smell like food! Always thinking of your stomach!” 

Jack pressed his lips together to bite back the grin, but his eyes danced with laughter. He shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly and boldly reached out to reclaim her hand. “What can I say, Miss Fisher? I know what I like…” As he spoke, he plucked a few blossoms from the plant and tucked the conjoined stem behind her ear. Then, he leaned close enough to smell the fruity-floral goodness as it mixed with the scents of her French perfume and honeyed shampoo. “And I like to surround myself with all manner of intoxicating fragrances...”

She shivered as his breath ghosted her cheek when he spoke, her body reacting without permission to the delicious quality of his husky, baritone timbre. 

~MFMM~ 

After a moonlit tour of the rest of his front garden, their interactions easy and positively  _ overflowing _ with double entendres, Jack finally guided her up the stairs to his front door. He should have felt weary with exhaustion after the last couple of hellish days, but with The Honorable Phryne Fisher at his side, bubbling with newfound energy (courtesy of, he was sure, an opportunistic kip she likely managed at her home), the DI was surprisingly alert. He tried to recall, as he unlocked the door, when he’d last dusted his front room, and hoped it wouldn’t prove to be too unsightly. 

With a sweep of his hand, he welcomed Miss Fisher to enter his home. “Welcome to  _ Robinson Manor _ , Miss Fisher,” he quipped dryly. 

“Well, thank you, Inspector Robinson,” Phryne responded playfully, complete with a haughty air and a slight curtsy before she entered the foyer. She grew excited at the idea of uncovering even more layers of her buttoned-up, noble Inspector. 

Jack lifted the coat from her shoulders, and hung it from the peg beside his. Accepting her cloche when she unpinned it, he placed it carefully on the small entrance table, reluctant to be the cause of any further millinery casualties.    
  


“Did you eat dinner, Miss Fisher?” 

“I did,” she nodded distractedly, her eyes unable to stop scanning the small room adjoining the entry hall. 

Jack smirked. “Well, then,” he motioned to the room that seemed to be pulling her in, “perhaps you’d like a drink? I’ll see to the fire first and you’re welcome to make yourself at home.” 

She smiled broadly. “If you want me to feel  _ truly  _ at home…” 

“ _ Yes _ , Miss Fisher, I know - you want to  _ snoop… _ ” He chuckled and squatted before the fireplace. “I’ve nothing to hide, snoop away.” 

“I do  _ not  _ snoop, Jack Robinson!” She sounded downright indignant, but couldn’t stop the giddy energy that was bubbling up. “But I  _ do  _ like to investigate, as you well know!” 

“I’m not sure there’s a difference with you,” he muttered jokingly, which earned him a gentle slap on the back of his shoulder. With a deep chuckle, he looked up at her from his place on the floor by the hearth. “Like I said, Miss Fisher, make yourself at home.” He knew that she would be unable to stop herself from snooping around his place, he’d resigned himself to his fate the moment his brain decided to accept the challenge she’d put forth about bringing her to his home. Gone, now, were his days of careful separation between work and personal… though he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Phryne practically clapped with glee and spun on her heel, deciding where she’d start. Spotting a gramophone on the far corner of the small room, she set her sights on first perusing his collection of recordings. She was delighted to see a vast mix of musical genres in Jack’s repertoire, ranging from classical to local recordings, and surprisingly, some more popular artists and jazz collections.

“Jack,” she smiled, “your taste in music is quite impressive.” Her coyness came through. “All this time I’ve suspected you were a Mozart- and Bach - man, but these,” she held up the newer, more popular records, “give you a whole new dimension.” 

Jack grinned and pushed up from his station by the fire, now the flames were lit and catching well. “You always say you prefer a constant source of mystery… If I reveal too many secrets too soon, you are likely to grow bored; so I’m forced to play my cards close to my chest...” He shoved his hands into his pockets and casually crossed the room to where she stood. “Once you learn all there is to know, you might cast me aside for some other man of mystery… and selfishly, I am not in a hurry for that to happen...”

Phryne grew serious. Despite the teasing quality in his tone, she suspected that, deep down, his assumptions were based on some long-suppressed fear. She didn’t want him to think she was taking the idea of ‘them’ lightly. 

Phryne hadn’t allowed herself to love anyone for a long time; Rene had ruined the notion of love for her. Jack’s steady presence at her side, though, day in and day out, demonstrated to her that permitting love into her life didn’t necessarily mean losing herself in the process. 

“Jack,” she blindly set the pile of records down and raised her hand to his cheek, standing directly in front of him. “The likelihood of me casting you aside for anyone else is preposterous, no matter how many secrets you have or have not revealed.”

He searched her eyes, sensing her genuine seriousness, but he didn’t want her to think he would ever force demands upon her. Jack’s hands gravitated to her hips and his fingers flexed against her softness. “Phryne, I know you don’t subscribe to the notion of monogamy… I’m not asking you to change, I promised long ago that I’d never ask you to change… But-“ 

“I know you aren’t asking, Jack,” she cut him off, not willing to let him completely sacrifice his own feelings. “I can’t continue to deny that something in me has  _ already _ changed, though. Something I don’t fully understand and most certainly didn’t anticipate… The more time I spend in your company, the less I want to spend with other men... I’m  _ not _ saying that I will ever marry,” she wanted to put that right out there, so there’d be no misunderstandings, “but if you think you would be satisfied with me, in every sense aside from giving up my name, I can’t imagine a time when I’d want anyone else.” 

She swallowed nervously, surprised at her own declaration. They hadn’t discussed entering into an actual relationship, they’d merely been following their baser instincts once the tension became overwhelming. “That is… If you are interested at all in the kind of relationship into which our partnership could evolve… If you’re not, if you are looking for  _ more _ , if you  _ need _ to have a woman who can promise forever and promise marriage, then I will always treasure what we have and I will support you in any way I can.” 

Jack’s hands released her hips, choosing, instead, to cradle her face. “Phryne, I’ve been married… I wasn’t good at it.” He raised his eyebrows sardonically. “If I wanted another marriage, I never would have set my sights on a thoroughly modern woman, and I  _ certainly _ wouldn’t have let her steal my heart…”

“Jack,” she breathed, biting back tears of relief that she didn’t know were threatening to escape. “So, are we…” her brow wrinkled and she started to grin. “Are we… doing this?”

Leaning in, his nose brushed hers playfully. “We are most  _ definitely _ doing this, Miss Fisher…” Sealing the promise with a kiss, he hummed when she threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down to her level. The involuntary grins that battled against the intensity of the kiss morphed into mutual chuckles of happiness as they dueled for control. 

If The Honorable Phryne Fisher gave in, uncharacteristically relenting control to a surprisingly, but not unwelcome, confidence she’d never seen coming, no one would be the wiser. When his hands stretched down to palm the sides of her thighs, she willingly hopped up, wrapping her legs around his narrow hips and allowed herself to be carried away, content to let Jack take the lead….  _ this time.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Postscript   
> Thank you, dear readers, for taking the time out of your day to read this, and all the preceding chapters. I really hope you enjoyed my little tale. 
> 
> I wish you all health and well-being.   
> Be kind to one another, the world is a pretty eff’ed up place right now… 
> 
> I’m playing with the idea of a sequel to this… but then again, I’m toying with many sequel ideas… If you enjoyed this, please follow me so you’ll be alerted when I post again. <3
> 
> peace & love, my friends.  
> ~jazzy

**Author's Note:**

> Postscript A/N I’d love to hear your thoughts! 
> 
> peace & love, my friends  
> ~jazzy


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